Duel:Azuroth v Dalamar
Duel Info
- Mages Tournament: 1st Round
- Judges: Sophie (mid), Bremen,
- Rds/time: 3 rounds, 10 minutes
- Venue: Sandy Beach
- Winner: Azuroth (majority)
Duel
Azuroth shifts his weight slightly in the sand, the crunch of the grain audible in the dark. A smile of sorts came to play upon his facade, his wings gittering slightly with anticipation of what would come. His brilliant green gaze shifted from place to place, taking in the simple surroundings before landing upon his opponent. It was odd for Azuroth, in the heat of the battle to come, that he would pick up on such little things. The breeze blowing in from the sea, the smells of salt in the air, and the taste of magic in his veins. His scarf was caught, for a moment, blowing into his face, and distorting his visage before he swatted it away. A quick bow would be given to the Highborn before him, a simple gesture of respect for his fellow magic user. It would be here, that someone might note the oddity of the occurrences. The waves slowly etched their way higher and higher onto the beach, and the sand about began to shift and move as though it had a life of its own. The granular substance seemed to breath, and surely the man would panic with confusion as to what was going on. It was, of course, a simple illusion. One that the Avian began to cast when his scarf blew into his face. His voice had began to seep, the mellifluous tones left to float and mix with the air about. His spell began to weave, entering the mans mind and altering his perception of things. Everything would seem so real--the smells of salt, the feel of the grain, the breeze that blew through. Every detail seemed covered. It was here that the sand began to surge upward in a great upheaval, as though it were attempting to swallow the man whole. It wouldn't, however, be able to. It was simply a panic factor. Azuroth, meanwhile, began to craft ice crystals in which to project towards the foe. Each zooming from every direction with intent to catch flesh.
Dalamar 's lips curl into a sinister smirk as his opponent bows before him, the highborn's enthralling gaze flickering with a malign intent as arcane verses begin to pour forth from his lips in rapid succession. It is not long before Azuroth's illusions begin to weave thier way into the arcane steward's mind, the mage raising a well trimmed brow at the very thought of the earth breathing. As the sands of Cenrils most polular beach begin to reach up to devour him, it is here that Dalamar's arcanic prowess shines through. With a celerity that is known only to his race, Dalamar extends his right arm out next to him, slender digits now wrapping about the newly summoned stave his master, the Eldermage Tiphareth D'Artes, gifted to him only days before. It is by only sheer concentraition that Dalmar is able to determine that he has been trapped within an illusion, natural instincts kicking in now and telling the apprentice mage that real danger is not far away. With the ease of a seasoned master, Dalamar recites the needed incantations the brings life to his mystical staff, the elemental runes about the magical weapon flaring to life at his command, the chosen element of fire now erupting forth from the crown of the mage's chosen weapon. The avain's icy-projectiles are met by a blazing wall of flame that bursts forth from the sand beneath the high elf, the towering shield stopping several of the damning missles instantly. Dalamar is hit in his leg leg by one, causing the elf to yelp out in pain, though he quickly recovers and points the crown of his mystical staff towards his opponent as he recites the nessesary words of his next spell. A sphere of flame erupts forth into existence now, launching itself towards Azuroth's form with incrediable speed. This blazing fireball seems to grow in size as it nears its target, capable of utterly destroying anything it come sinto contact with, with Azuroth being its main target of destruction.
Azuroth watched with a smirk upon his face. It would appear that he was granted a worthy opponent--one that managed to see through a simple illusion! The smirk widened to a grin, and a half cackle erupted from his lips. It was here that he began to note the man's arcane workings, the find art of flames dancing towards him. A quick spin was made, a pivot upon his heals followed quickly by a diving jump towards the water. He, however, did not appear to be quite quick enough. The flame caught various pieces of his attire. The end of his scarf was burned, and a searing pain coursed through his wings. Luckily, though, he had jumped towards the water. What remained aflame was quickly put out, and instantly Azuroth began his next spell. The words poured forth with arcane encryption, the spell a blur of sounds. He quickly rose from the water, his wings propelling him skyward with heavy beats, resting above the black surface. His magic weaved into the air about yet again, a more complex spell that would find hold in the mans mind. A pale arm extended, and digits began to tighten about the air. Madness might appear in someones mind. That is, until a simple wooden staff appeared where air once resided. Its polished surface was tightly gripped, and magic was released into the wood. Crimson runes would begin to etch into the surface, burning their way out. Azuroth would draw power from it, his entire form darkening in aura as he did. The water about began to thrash in response, throwing itself this way and that before the spell seemed to be finished. However, the madness did not. The water was called upon, and summoned in a large wave. A simple flick of his wrist would send the gargantuan wave hurtling towards the man. Was this an illusion, though? Partially, would in truth, be the answer. The wave was real...the size and beastly look to it, however, wasn't.
Dalamar glowers in disgust as his avian opponent evades his castings, the highborn never developing a taste for failure. Though if he was to belittle himself for his shortcomings, this was surely not the time. The avian has taken to flight, and now high above the battlefield he has unleashed the very power of the sea upon him! The mighty wave shadows the mage's frail form, a vicious fit of coughing ravages his body just as he tries to begin his first castings. Blood stains ashen lips as it seems the arcane steward still hasn't recovered fully from his battle just days ago. Azuroth's wave reaches the high elf's feeble form now, hitting the mage with enough force to throw him back against the stone barrier that surrounds the beach. The apprentice hits the barrier hard, the sickening sound of bones meeting stone being drowned out by the mage's pain filled scream of agony. Within moments though the mage makes it to his feet, his mind racing for a way to deal with this damned avain. It is now that Dalamar's scrutinizinggaze now falls upon the shoddy stone barrier that surrounds this public local, a sinister smirk quickly forming upon the highborn's pallid visage as he is stricken by a sudden idea.Pointing yet again the crown of his staff towards the barrier, the arcane steward begins to once again recite arcane verses, the words pouring from his ashen lips with practiced ease. The small malachite stone that rests atop his staff flares to life upon his command,the stones that make up the barrier becoming enveleoped by a an azure hue as the steward uses his mastery over his arcane pwer to force the blocks of stone to fly towards Azuroth with enough force to kill, another quick incantation making the stone projectiles, which number in twenty, to become wreathed in flame. As the stones begin to assail the hovering avian, Dalamar finishes his casting, causing the stones to erupt in a fiery explosion. Should Azuroth be hit by one of these flying bombs, he would surley find himself in a world of pain.
Azuroth continued to look at the man with a look of amusement, his features erupting into yet another cackle as the mage made his assault. However, Azuroth's mind quickly began to race. And, to make the matter worse, fire had been added. A slight grimace came to view, and the Avian began to evade as best he could. His voice, however, continued to seep from parted lips. His spell at constant motion, his weaving never done. His grip tightened about the staff, and his practice in hydromancy coming to fruition. He dipped and angled, avoiding a few of the flaming stones hurtled his way. His face tightened with the anticipation of a head of impact, yet his voice continued to spill forth the arcane verse. Luckily for him, his spell seemed completed in time. Jets of water from below began to erupt with immense force, dousing the flaming stone before him and throwing it off course. However, that was only a handful evaded. The jets kept coming though, as Azuroth winged his way around the spraying jets and attempted to evade the oncoming projectiles. For a moment, it seemed that he was being smiled upon by a god, but that quickly ended. He came around a jet of water to find one of the stones before him. He angled away, but his staff was nicked and sent sprawling to the sea bellow. The explosion that was left in its wake sent Azuroth in a spiraling course to the waters bellow. Blood drenched his un-scorched clothing, and his chest heaved in pain. His screams, however, would not be heard. A loud plop could be heard as he crashed into the water and sank...It was here that he would become reunited with his staff, and purely by chance. The magic within coming forth with a gentle touch from his skin. The water would seem to bubble and hiss, the form of Azuroth rising with the magic though his wings remained still. It was a terrible sight of awe as the attack came about. Twin pillars of water would rise a hundred feet in the air, and swirl about until crashing from either side of the Highborn. Hopefully crushing him if it made contact.
Dalamar smirks as he watches the avian's "fall from grace", the illusionist's luck seeming to have come to an abrupt end. The mage seems to find a degree of pleasure in the torment he has caused his opponent, a sinsiter smirk forming out of blood stained lips. But once again the arcane steward is throw upon his heels by his advisary, the twin pillars causing great alarm as the highborn goes immiediatley to his castings. Once again the elemental runes that adron his staff flare to life, the same azure hue from before now wrapping itself about the blessed weapon. Within moments Dalamar creates a concentraited current of air that he utilizes to propel his slender form high above the ground, the mage eluding death by mere inches. The beach is now flooded below, and Dalamar's enthralling gaze scans the battlefield for his opponent, whom seems to have become lost to the sea. Once again, and hopefully for the last time, the highborn loses himself within powerful arcane verses, the mystical language of magic spoken with a fluid mastery that few can atest to. Floatin g high above the now muddy shores of cenril's most popular beach, Dalamar begins weaving his final spell. The sea begins to move at the arcane steward's command, Dalamar's will dominating the mighty element of water by aid of his mystical staff. The runes shift from an azure hue to a dark cobalt, the waves about where Azuroth fell into the murky depths seeming to turn inward until the sea becomes a spiraling pit of death. The water rushes at dangerous speeds as Dalamar has created a vortex within the sea itself. Anything caught within this hellish creation would surely find themselves torn apart by the coral reef that lies at the bottom of the ocean floor...
Azuroth had fallen back into the sea from which he rose. He was beginning to slip in and out of consciousness, the land about a blur. He felt to warm embrace of death as he began to slip into it, and the comfort of the chilling waters overcoming him. He had began to fall deeper and deeper into its murky depths when the mage began casting his spell. It was the sudden motion of the water as it began to swirl about that brought Azuroth back to reality and away from death...for now, least ways. His mind raced, and his magics poured from him. Illusions would do him no good right now...so, his voice called upon the arcane again. Dizziness began to set in, and the Avian rushed to finish his spell with hopes to survive. At last, he seemed to finish, his grip still holding the staff tightly. In retrospect, he might ponder how he managed to do it, and perhaps he would simply conclude chaos. Either way, the magic began to aid him, and the vortex began to freeze over. Alone, he couldn't hope to complete such a feat. However, with the magic contained in the staff, he could manage. It started slowly, at first, but the magic quickly spread. The waters ripped and pulled at the ice, though. Cracking it here so it could freeze here. The effect of it was that Azuroth was tossed about the ever-freezing surface, and forced downward to the dip in the vortex. Bones would crack, blood would be spat and splattered about, and pain emitted in palpable waves as he screamed. He would live, it would seem, as the vortex settled. Azuroth lay broken, battered, and beaten in the center of a giant ice funnel. However, the ice would begin to melt, and Azuroth would eventually be left to float upon the black surface.
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